


bluntly speaking

by youcouldmakealife



Series: between the teeth [51]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-11 01:44:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7870708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I think it needs to be up to you,” Jake says. “I’m not telling you to do anything, especially if you don’t want to, but can I ask you a really blunt question?”</p>
<p>“Okay,” David says warily.</p>
<p>“How important is it to you that you stay friends?” Jake asks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bluntly speaking

It isn’t until morning, after an intermittently sleepless, miserable night, that David realises he didn’t look at his phone once after texting Georgie. It’s a mixed blessing he supposes, because he knows otherwise he would have been checking his phone every few minutes, just in case it didn’t vibrate when Jake texted, even though it always did. The sort of anxious, useless superstition things regarding Jake always seemed to bring out in him. 

When he wakes up, checks his phone after shutting his alarm off, he has a few texts. Nothing from Robbie, though he didn’t really expect there to be. One from a number he knows is Georgie’s, which he doesn’t want to look at right now, a few more encouraging ones from Kiro, along with a picture of him holding up Orange’s paw and telling David that she too is rooting for him, which is ridiculous. Two from Jake, first _it was only a small fire tho_ , which almost makes him smile, then, sent hours later _how r u rly? dnt say fine_ , which wipes any lingering traces of a smile away.

There’s something about Jake’s…Jake that makes it easy, easier than it even is with Kiro, to type out _I think I ruined one of my only friendships but other than that I’m fine_ , to press send. He can’t stand looking at it after, the truth in stark lettering, and he can’t exactly sit there at the edge of his bed, wait for Jake’s response. He’s not sure if the Panthers play today, or practice, but Jake likes sleeping in, and if he can, he will. He forces himself to get up after he’s stared at his phone too long, finally checks Georgie’s message, sent after David fell asleep, _Hope you’re okay. If you need anything just ask._ It makes him feel shitty. He’s sure that’s not what Georgie intended. He’s sure he meant exactly what he said. He’s still not sure how he’s supposed to look him in the eye today.

He keeps thinking about Jake in the shower again today, but maybe not so…recreationally, he guesses. It sounds sordid if he puts it that way. It feels sordid regardless. Thinks about Georgie too, again, not like…it was already mortifying to think of him when he was a straight teammate, it’s something else when he’s Robbie’s ex. 

And David _kissed_ him. 

David scrubs his face under the water, accidentally knocks his elbow into the tile, bites his tongue to keep himself from swearing, because right now he thinks if he starts he isn’t going to stop, will go on like he’s heard some players yell between the benches, never repeating the same thing, never taking a breath, every second word a curse. That’s how he feels right now, except there’s no one to be angry at but himself.

_u want to talk abt it?_ is waiting for him when he gets out of the shower. He thinks about it as he’s getting dressed. He doesn’t want to — it’s not Jake’s problem, he’s not Jake’s problem, but if he hadn’t wanted to he probably wouldn’t have — he shouldn’t have sent the text in the first place, but he did, so.

_I don’t know_ , he finally responds, which isn’t untrue.

_u want me to call u?_ Jake sends.

_I don’t want to inconvenience you_ , David sends back, and almost the moment he sends it his phone is ringing in his hand. He supposes he should have expected that: anything other than outright refusal tends to be taken as a yes from Jake. He knows that. He knew that, writing the text, so what does that say about him? That he doesn’t care if he inconveniences him at all, likely.

He picks up the phone, which only underlines that. “Hi,” David says.

“Hi,” Jake says, and David talked to him, like…not even 36 hours ago, _saw_ him, so there’s no accounting for the punch in the gut it feels like, hearing him. He can’t take many more of them, right now. “What happened?”

“My teammate told me he was gay? Or maybe not gay, just. He’d been with a guy. Like a relationship,” David says, voice hitching, like he can’t even get through explaining without getting hysterical. “I can’t say names,” he adds, steadier.

“I get it,” Jake says. “I won’t ask or anything.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” David says. That isn’t exactly true, but even if he trusted Jake implicitly, Robbie told David, not him. David doesn’t have the right to tell anyone. That’s something Jake may have figured out by now. He hopes so, at least.

“I’m seriously not asking,” Jake says. “What happened?”

“I freaked out,” David says.

“Freaked out how?” Jake asks.

“He told me, and,” David says, stops.

“What’d you say?” Jake prompts.

“I need to go,” David says. “That’s what I said,” he adds, in case Jake gets the wrong idea.

“And then you left?” Jake asks.

“Yeah,” David says.

“I mean, it’s no asking someone to come over after they plant one on you at BB&T,” Jake says, and David chokes out a laugh, but it’s kind of bitter. It’s not exactly a good memory. Jake was…Jake was Jake, Jake was good to him, better than he deserved, considering he went in trying to pick a fight the entire time, incredulous at the idea of Jake somehow wanting him. Sometimes he still is. That Jake wanted him. Maybe — last night Georgie said — that’s another thing David can’t think about right now. “You talked to him since?”

“No,” David says. “He’s been…I don’t think he wants to talk to me.”

“Yeah, that’s rough,” Jake says. “How’re you going to fix it?”

“What do you mean?” David asks.

“You want to fix it, right?” Jake asks.

“Of course,” David says. “Of course I do.”

“So, like, what are your options?” Jake asks.

“I don’t know,” David says. 

Jake doesn’t say anything.

“I guess,” David starts, reluctant, “I tell him I panicked?”

“Okay,” Jake says. “That’s a start.”

“I don’t know what else to say,” David says. “I don’t — help?”

“I can’t tell you what to say,” Jake says. “That’s gotta be you.”

“You think I should tell him,” David says.

“I think I can’t tell you what to say,” Jake says. “But like. Walking away when someone comes out, that’s — I don’t know how I’d feel if someone did that to me.”

David does. Or doesn’t, Jake’s right, it hasn’t happened, he can’t — he can imagine, though. That bile in his throat when he thought Oleg wasn’t going to — the trapped feeling with Kiro and Georgie, the way he’d screwed his eyes up tight and waited for Jake to punch him. The kiss was an even worse blow, it turned out. He’s still feeling it five years later. 

“You think I should tell him,” David repeats.

“I think it needs to be up to you,” Jake says. “I’m not telling you to do anything, especially if you don’t want to, but can I ask you a really blunt question?”

“Okay,” David says warily.

“How important is it to you that you stay friends?” Jake asks.

David can’t help flinching. “I-” he says. 

“Sorry,” Jake says. “I told you it was blunt.”

“You’re right, though,” David says. “That’s. You’re right. I need to tell him.”

“You don’t need to do anything you’re not comfortable with?” Jake says. “Just like. Keep that in mind, I guess.”

“You’re — this was very —”. David considers. “You sound like a captain or something.”

“I am a captain or something,” Jake says, sounding amused.

“I know,” David says, though he never really thought of him as one, not like Oleg, or even Quincy. Maybe it’s the fact they’re the same age, though there are captains younger than Jake now. Maybe it’s just…Jake. It’s hard to think of Jake like that, authoritative, or, like — paternal, or something. Not that he was now, but — 

“I don’t have anywhere I need to be until, like, three,” Jake says. “So if you need to talk, I’m right here, okay?”

“Thank you,” David says. “Jake. Thanks.”

“Any time,” Jake says. “Just because — I still care about you, you know? If you need me, I’m here.”

David squeezes his eyes shut. “You too,” he manages. “I’m. I mean—” 

He can’t finish.

“I know,” Jake says. 

*

David goes down to breakfast a little later than he would usually. With his stomach rolling the way it is, he doesn’t think he’d be able to choke down anything, keep it down. They leave to practice at eleven, and the sooner David says something, the sooner the rolling will stop and he’ll be able to eat a power bar or something. At least, he hopes so. He doesn’t really know how the conversation will go. If it will happen. If Robbie refuses to talk to him there isn’t really anything he can do about it. He wouldn’t even be able to blame him.

He still has to try, not the least because he doesn’t think he can focus on the game tonight if he continues to feel this way. He finds Robbie quickly enough once he enters the room. He’s sitting with Whelan and Matthews and Crane, all three of whom look vaguely unfriendly when David walks up, and he doesn’t think it’s just his imagination. 

“Can I talk to you?” David asks.

“Sure,” Robbie says, not looking up from his plate. “Go right ahead.”

“Not here,” David says. “In private, please?”

Robbie exchanges a look with Matthews David can’t decipher. “Let me finish eating at least,” he says.

“Right, sure,” David says. “Of course. Meet in the lobby? When you’re done?”

“Fine,” Robbie says, and David waits in the lobby for ten minutes before Robbie meets him by the elevators.

“So?” Robbie asks.

“Maybe — my room?” David says, since Robbie shares one with Matthews.

“Three people saw me walk out with you if you’re planning on a deniable gay bashing or something,” Robbie says, and hits the elevator button.

“That’s not funny,” David says.

“You’re right,” Robbie says. “It’s not.”

He doesn’t say anything else when they get in the elevator or when David’s leading him back to his room, and David doesn’t feel comfortable saying anything until they’re somewhere they can’t be overheard. Even so, the silence gets to him, feels impossibly heavy, maybe because it’s so rare for Robbie to be quiet. 

“Um, sit?” David asks, once they’re in his room. 

“I’d rather not, honestly,” Robbie says, ends up going to stand by the window, arms crossed over his chest. He’s standing beside the chair Georgie was sitting last night. It suddenly occurs to David that there have been two guys who — guys who like guys, he guesses, in his room since last night, and he has to bite back a hysterical laugh. It’s so absurd. Kiro would laugh his ass off. Dave would probably kill him. 

David sits down on the corner of his bed. 

“So?” Robbie prompts, when he doesn’t say anything. “You planning on a speech or are we just going to stare at each other? Because if it’s the second one, I have better shit to do.”

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” David says. “I panicked.”

“No shit,” Robbie mutters.

“I don’t have a problem with it or anything,” David says, and Robbie gives him a look so incredulous he can’t maintain eye contact, has to look down at his hands. “I was just…surprised,” David says. “You didn’t seem—”

“Let me stop you before you dig yourself a hole so deep you can’t see out of it,” Robbie says. “Sorry I didn’t fit your idea that we can all be identified by sight, it doesn’t work like that.”

“I know,” David says.

“But ‘I didn’t seem’,” Robbie says, using finger quotes that David catches out of the corner of his eye, sounding snappish, sarcastic. “Because like, what? No teammate of yours could be gay, next thing you know someone in the league’s going to come out — oh wait, shit, that already happened, didn’t it? Well, fuck.”

“I — no,” David says. “I’m not saying this right.”

“No shit,” Robbie says. “Look, you want to act like this is some huge fucking deal that changes who I am, whatever, knock yourself out, but I don’t really want to hear it right now, or like, ever, so I’m gonna go.”

“Jake Lourdes,” David blurts when Robbie’s almost at the door, and is immediately furious with himself.

“Serge Bovard,” Robbie retorts, and when David frowns, “Oh sorry, I thought we were playing ‘name random fucking NHL captains, because that’s clearly relevant’.”

David thinks about what he could follow that up with, what he can say that doesn’t out Jake right with him. There aren’t really many options. He feels like an idiot, but he can’t take it back and just let Robbie walk out thinking he’s — that he isn’t — 

_How important is it to you that you stay friends?_ Jake asked. If Robbie walks out right now, David doesn’t think they’re going to be, anymore.

“I’m in love with him,” David says. “So.”

“It’s really not the time for a shitty gay joke,” Robbie says. “For the record.”

“I’m not joking,” David says. “How often do I joke?”

Robbie snorts. “Fair,” he says. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” David says.

“You, what, have been sneaking a secret boyfriend under everyone’s nose while acting squeamish every time someone says the word ‘gay’?” Robbie asks. 

David flinches, which probably just proves Robbie’s point. “He’s not my boyfriend,” he mumbles.

“So what, then?” Robbie asks, sounding curious.

“I—” David says. “Give me a second?”

“Okay?” Robbie says, and frowns when David pulls out his phone, but doesn’t say anything. 

_Can I tell my teammate about you and me?_ David texts. _Like our history. Identifying you. Feel free to say no of course_. He’s not a very good liar, but he can — it’s been unrequited, it’s not a stretch to imply that it’s always been.

_go for it_ , Jake sends back immediately, like he’s been waiting by the phone or something. It shouldn’t make David feel so warm, he knows Jake’s permanently attached to his phone, regardless of situation, but. He still does. He can’t help it.

“You have notes on there or something?” Robbie asks. He’s sarcastic, but it isn’t angry like the sarcasm before, just regular Robbie sarcasm.

“No, it’s Jake,” David says. “I — I wasn’t going to say anything about us if he didn’t want me to.”

“Okay, this I actually want to hear,” Robbie says, sits down on the edge of the bed opposite David, and it almost feels like last night, Georgie perched by him, then — closer, but David feels calm. Or, not calm, but not like he did yesterday, like he couldn’t fit in his skin. His heartbeat’s going fast, too fast, and he’s holding his phone like it’s some sort of talisman, like it’ll protect him, but he doesn’t feel like he’s choking, like the words will strangle him before he gets them out.

“You can’t—” David starts.

“Dude, I’m not going to tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Robbie interrupts.

“Georgie said you wouldn’t,” David says. He doesn’t think he’d be comfortable telling him, even with Jake okay with it, if Georgie hadn’t said that. 

“You talking to Georgie about me?” Robbie asks, suddenly sharp again, and David regrets saying his name, and not only because he still feels mortified whenever he thinks about last night.

“I needed him to know,” David says. “That I knew about him, I mean. After you told me about — you guys. And he said if I told you about — me, I guess, you wouldn’t tell.”

“I mean, I hate to agree with Georgie,” Robbie says. “But yeah.” He makes a zipping motion over his lips. “Secret’s safe with me.”

David laughs, can’t help it.

“What?” Robbie says.

“That’s what he said,” David says.

“Can’t believe you told him first,” Robbie mutters.

“He guessed,” David says. “I didn’t tell him, he. After my birthday—”

“I’m a dumbass, huh?” Robbie asks.

“No,” David says. “Of course not. He’s just friends with Jake.”

“No, I am definitely a dumbass,” Robbie says, and flops back onto his back on David’s bed. “Total idiot.”

“No you’re not,” David argues. “It isn’t obvious, or. I hope it isn’t. It isn’t, right?”

“Dude, I thought you were a fucking dick homophobe until like five minutes ago,” Robbie says. “It’s not obvious.”

“Sorry,” David mumbles.

“I get it, kinda,” Robbie says. “Not like, really, but kinda. I guess. Jake Lourdes?”

“Yeah,” David says. “Not anymore, but.”

“Good work,” Robbie says. “He got hot.”

“Robbie,” David says, feels himself go red.

Robbie sits up, holds his fist out. “Fist bump,” he demands.

“No,” David says. “I’m not —” Robbie knocks his fist against David’s hand. “ _Hey_.”

“Deserved a fist bump,” Robbie says. “Not anymore?”

David shakes his head.

“But you’re still in love with him,” Robbie says.

“Yeah,” David says, voice small.

“Sorry man,” Robbie says. “I know how much that sucks.”

“Aren’t you, like…mad at me?” David asks.

“That was five minutes ago,” Robbie says, waving a hand dismissively. “You had your reasons for being an asshole.”

“I’m really sorry,” David says. “I just didn’t know how — it’s hard.”

“Thanks for telling me,” Robbie says, sounding kind of serious now.

David nods, jerky. 

Robbie slings an arm around his shoulder, pulls him in. 

“You can’t tell, like. Matthews or—” David says, needing to be clear.

“I’m not going to, man,” Robbie says. “I’ll just tell them it was a misunderstanding and I overreacted. I do that sometimes. I think you’ve experienced it.”

“You didn’t overreact, though,” David says.

“Yeah, well, they don’t know that,” Robbie says. “Maybe I told you and you, like, had food poisoning and needed to book it. Or a birthday hangover or something.”

David snorts.

“Georgie knew first,” Robbie huffs.

“It really bothers you that much?” David asks.

“It totally does,” Robbie says. “Fuck, man, I thought we were bros.”

“We are,” David says. “I mean. Right?”

“Totally,” Robbie says. “For sure, man.”

“Okay,” David says. “I mean. Good. I’m glad.”

“Me too, Chaps,” Robbie says. “You wanna head down, get some breakfast, or you need a minute?”

“Um,” David says. “A minute, if that’s okay. You can go ahead.”

“Nah, I’ll stick with you,” Robbie says, and squeezes David’s shoulder for emphasis.

“Thanks,” David says.

“No worries,” Robbie says. 

His phone vibrates, and he unlocks it when Robbie lets go of him a minute later. “You go ahead?” he asks. “I’ll meet you downstairs, I just need to—”

“Yeah,” Robbie says. “’course.”

David waits until he leaves to look at his texts, one unsurprisingly from Jake. _it go ok?_ it says.

_It went well I think_ , David types, then, _Thank you._

_always_ , Jake responds, and David tries really hard not to take that to heart.


End file.
